


Tear You Apart

by Cheshire_Cat



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Comeplay, D/s, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Frottage, Gangbang, Kink Negotiation, M/M, OT5, Orgasm Delay, Pain Kink, Power Exchange, Shotgunning, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshire_Cat/pseuds/Cheshire_Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn finds out what Harry likes and is surprised by how much he likes it, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tear You Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my [livejournal](http://likean808drum.livejournal.com/).

“Okay, what is it?”

Zayn pulls Harry closer in to him, murmuring the question into his ear.

“What’s what?” Harry asks thickly, the post-sex fog still not fully cleared from his brain.

“What’s bugging you?” Zayn tugs the covers over their bodies and Harry turns over, nestling himself against Zayn’s chest. Zayn finger-combs through his curls and says, “You’ve been really quiet lately, and doing that frown that you do when you’re stressed out.” He smoothes his thumb over Harry’s forehead, where he’s started to frown again.

 “I dunno,” Harry says. “It’s kind of… this vague sort of feeling? I’ve just been worried lately and I don’t know why.”

Zayn kisses his forehead. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Harry bites his lip, thinks for a moment. “Well, you know how I always get more relaxed after you, um, after we fuck and you’re, like, rough with me?” Zayn nods. “I think maybe, more of that, would help. It, um, it feels good. And it makes me relax. Like, stress relief.”

Zayn hums, running his hand down Harry’s shoulder, tracing the outlines of his tattoos (Harry gets the dumbest tattoos, honestly, and Zayn loves him for it).

“Like what? What did you have in mind?”

Harry shrugs. “Just, whatever you’d be comfortable doing, I guess. I like spanking, maybe, or being tied down, or, y’know, other stuff…” He trails off, gazing at Zayn to try and gauge his reactions. Zayn considers for a bit, but it’s not like he can pretend his cock isn’t stiffening against Harry’s thigh, even though they _just_ finished fucking.

“Yeah, I’d be into that,” he says. “Have you done stuff like that with, like, your girlfriends and stuff?”

Harry nods. “Different levels of it, yeah. It sort of depends what they’re into.”

Zayn tries not to picture it, he really does, but he’s flashing through all the different girls he knows Harry’s slept with, thinking about what they could have done with him—did this one pull him over her lap and spank him, did that one tie him to the bedframe and ride him? Did he go all slack-jawed and glassy-eyed the way he does when Zayn pins him down, or throws him onto the mattress? Zayn grabs Harry and kisses him, holding his face in both hands so he can’t move, and Harry relaxes into it, parts his lips and just lets Zayn kiss him, lick feverishly into Harry’s mouth, his breath hot and insistent. Harry groans beneath him, his hands coming up to grip at Zayn’s shoulders. Zayn bites Harry’s bottom lip, not quite hard, but not quite gentle, either.

“Like what?” he asks, breathless, as he pulls away. “Tell me what they did with you.”

Harry groans. “There was this one girl, right, who really liked to tie me down, and one time she tied me, like, spread-eagle on the bed.”

Zayn turns Harry onto his back. “Like this?” he says, pushing Harry’s legs apart and pinning his arms above his head, holding his wrists tight as he goes down to kiss him again before biting at his jaw.

“Uh-huh,” Harry says shakily, arching up into Zayn’s body, “only we had these really nice leather restraint things, these cuffs that went around my—my wrists and ankles—” Zayn moves down, sucking at the swallows on Harry’s collarbones. “—And they had chains on them, too, so every time I moved you could hear them—” Zayn takes one of Harry’s nipples into his mouth, sucking on it gently and nipping at it with his teeth.  Harry whines at the back of his throat. “—Yeah, and she’d, she’d pinch me and run her fingernails down my chest and she’d ride me until I was—God—until I was right on the edge—” Zayn lets go of Harry’s wrists in order to move further down, hissing _Don’t move_ as he goes, and Harry nods eagerly, holding his arms exactly as Zayn left them.

“—But before I could come she’d pull off and just finger herself, get herself off while I just watched—” Zayn doesn’t bother being gentle, just pushes two fingers into Harry’s arse, already wet with lube and Zayn’s cum from earlier. He fucks them in and out and Harry moans, lifting his hips off the bed to give Zayn a better angle as he lubes himself up again and pushes in. “—And she’d do that, like, several times, until finally I was just squirming and crying and begging her to let me come—”

Zayn grips Harry’s hips and fucks him in quick, shallow thrusts, watching Harry tremble beneath him. Harry gasps and moans, clenching and unclenching his fists, and forces the words out through his breathless whimpers: “—Yeah, yeah, she loved it when I begged, ‘please please please can I come’, she loved making me scream and cry for it, and she’d suck my cock, yeah, mmm, but she still sometimes wouldn’t even let me come from that—” Zayn takes Harry’s cock in his hand, working it in time with his thrusts, and Harry fucks up into his fist, then back down onto Zayn’s cock, back and forth and back and forth. “—And, and I’d be so d-desperate I could hardly even, even talk anymore to beg, and she’d, she’d just whisper ‘do you really want to come, Harry?’ and, and I’d just _scream_ , ‘yes yes yes please!’—”

His breath hitches and then he’s coming, white ropes all over his stomach and Zayn’s hand, and it’s the hardest Zayn’s ever seen him orgasm. Harry shouts and Zayn leans down and bites into his shoulder until he stops panting, until he comes down enough to say, “—And, and then when I finally came, sh-she didn’t swallow it, she’d come back up and k-kiss me with my cum still in her mouth—”

Zayn’s thrusts are erratic now, and Harry’s gone nearly limp beneath him, just letting Zayn use his arse to get off, still narrating in a shaky voice: “And she’d, she’d make me s-swallow it all, and then she’d come up and, and sit on my face, because I’d be so exhausted that I, I couldn’t do anything but just hold my m-mouth open and let her rub her clit over my tongue until she came again—” Zayn comes with a groan, pinning Harry’s hips against him and closing his eyes to watch the image in his head of Harry, limp and helpless, his tongue coated in the girl’s wetness as well as his own cum.

“Fuck, _Harry!_ ”

Zayn collapses on top of Harry, both of them panting and sweaty. He rests his head on Harry’s chest and just listens to his frantic heartbeat until he has the presence of mind to pull out and reach over to the bedside table for a handful of tissues, which he uses to wipe off his hand and then Harry’s stomach. Harry hasn’t moved, his arms still above his head, his legs still wide open. His eyes are closed, and he’s got this soft little smile on his face, completely relaxed; worlds away from the worried frown he’s had for the past couple days.

Zayn gently closes his legs and brings his arms back down, pulling Harry into him and spooning him from behind.

“So is that what you like?” he asks, whispering in Harry’s ear. Harry hums and opens his eyes, turning his head to give Zayn a little peck on his lips.

“Mmm, yeah, something like that,” he says, giggling.

“I think,” Zayn says, pushing Harry’s sweat-dampened curls out of his face, “I think I would definitely be into that kind of stuff.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning they talk about it, over room service and Zayn’s morning smoke, which Harry won’t let him go out onto the balcony for. Zayn always tries to get away from Harry when he smokes, because he knows Harry’s lungs are sensitive and he doesn’t want to trigger an asthma attack, but Harry will have none of it, just opens a window and sits himself on Zayn’s lap. Finally they compromise by having Zayn sit right by the open window with Harry across from him, rolling his eyes. By that time their breakfast has arrived.

“How long have you known you liked that sort of stuff?” Zayn asks.

“I dunno, I think I always sort of knew. I like making people happy, and I like, y’know, I like when somebody else takes over, tells me what to do. I like the feeling of not being in control, like I don’t get to decide what happens.”

Zayn bites his lip. He definitely likes the sound of that.

“What sort of stuff would you want to try? You said tying you down and maybe spanking you?”

Harry nods, putting entirely too much jam on his toast and then frowning when it falls off onto his lap.

“And other stuff, whatever you’d be up for,” he says, grabbing a napkin to wipe the jam off. “There’s all kinds of stuff we can do, different levels of power exchange and stuff. I like pain, and I like a little bit of humiliation.”

Zayn focuses on breathing in the smoke, feeling it fill up his lungs, harsh and hot and soothing, because it’s better to focus on that than to focus on how much this is turning him on. He never would have thought he’d be into any of this, always fancied himself to be pretty run-of-the-mill, sex-wise, but now Harry’s talking about power exchanges and pain and humiliation, and he’s doing it all so casually, as though this is just a regular conversation for him. But then Zayn sees the blush creeping up Harry’s cheeks, and the way he won’t meet Zayn’s eyes, but is instead intently focused on wiping up the spilled jam, and he realizes that it’s not quite that simple. Harry’s keeping his voice steady, pretending that this is all just like talking about their setlist for tonight’s show, when really on the inside he’s probably scared shitless that Zayn’s going to walk away from him in disgust.

Zayn reaches over and takes the napkin from Harry’s hand, gently wiping up the rest of the jam. He kisses Harry’s cheek, careful not to breathe smoke on him, and says,

“You can tell me anything, love. I won’t judge you. Even if I’m not into something I won’t hold it against you, okay?”

Harry nods, finally meeting Zayn’s eyes.

“Besides,” Zayn says, sitting back and flicking ashes off the tip of his cigarette, “So far I think I’m up for everything you’ve mentioned.”

Harry nods, biting into his toast and looking immensely relieved.

“What, um, what do you mean by ‘power exchange’?” Zayn asks.

“Well, I’ve, um, I’ve never really done it to a very serious degree with anybody before, but it basically means my partner would have some degree of control over my life. I’ve read about it online and stuff, and like sometimes the dominant will pick out the sub’s clothes, or decide what he eats, or… other stuff.” He glances up at Zayn again, double checking that he’s not freaked out. Zayn thinks about this.

“Is that… something you’d be into?”

Harry nods slowly. “I—I think so. I like the idea of it, at least.”

Zayn hums. He can’t say he’s not intrigued.

“When were you going to tell me?” he asks, smiling. “I’m a bit annoyed that we waited until last night to have sex like that.”

“I was sort of waiting for the right time to bring it up,” Harry says, smiling sheepishly. “So you, um, you definitely liked it?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, putting out his cigarette and starting in on his breakfast.

“Are you kidding? That was the best sex I’ve _ever had_.”

Harry blushes, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says. “Maybe next time we should try _actually_ tying you up.”

 

* * *

 

 

And they do. Zayn fishes out one of the neckties that he packed and ties Harry’s hands behind his back, gags him with one of the sleeves Harry tore off his flannel shirt. He puts Harry on his knees on the bed and fucks him from behind, hard and fast, pushing his face into the mattress.

“Maybe,” Harry had suggested when they talked about what they wanted to try, “maybe if you smack my arse a couple times while you’re fucking me?” So Zayn brings his hand down on Harry’s right cheek, and even through the gag he can hear Harry groan with pleasure. He hits him again, and Harry grinds back onto his cock, his hands limp and unresisting, not even trying to struggle against his bonds.

Afterwards, Harry looks so blissed out and happy that Zayn just wants to hold him and snuggle him forever. As soon as Zayn unties him, Harry pulls him down and peppers him with kisses, giggling breathily.

“ _Zayn_ ,” he says. “Zayn, that was _amazing_.”

Next time Zayn spanks him for real, pulling him over his knees and smacking him over and over and over again until he starts to cry.

“Harry, do you want me to stop?” he asks gently, rubbing a hand over his reddened arse. “Or are you okay for me to keep going?” He smacks him again to make his point, and Harry gasps.

“God, keep going, Zayn, please…”

So he does, he keeps going until Harry’s arse is red and raw, and then he pushes him down onto his knees and fucks his throat, and Harry blinks up at him, wide green eyes beneath soft brown lashes, pink lips wrapped around Zayn’s cock, hands obediently placed on his knees, making no attempt to stop Zayn as he grabs his curls and pushes Harry’s head up and down on his dick until he comes down Harry’s throat, holding him in place until he swallows all of it.

Zayn picks Harry up and lays him down on the bed, kissing his swollen lips and stroking his curls.

“You still with me baby?”

Harry nods slowly, groaning. He’s told Zayn about subspace, about the handful of times he’s managed to go under, about the signs that he’s gone and about what he’ll need from Zayn if he does go under. Zayn doesn’t think he’s completely there, but he still makes sure to hold him, anchoring him, as he whispers in his ear,

“Remember what you told me about your girlfriend? About how she made you beg to come?”

“Yeah,” Harry says eagerly, or at least as eagerly as he can through the fog of ecstasy around his brain.

“I want you to do that for me, okay, love? I’m gonna blow you, and I don’t want you to come without permission, okay?”

Harry nods, opening his legs for Zayn to kneel between them. He’s painfully hard, and as soon as Zayn puts a hand on his cock Harry whines and bucks up into his touch. Zayn chuckles and puts an arm across his hips to hold him down as he wraps his lips around the tip.

Harry is perfect. If Zayn thought he was vulnerable before, he comes completely undone now, with Zayn bobbing up and down on his cock; he starts begging and pleading through his tears, sobs wracking his body.

“Please, Zayn, please, I’m gonna come, god, please, please, please, Zayn, _please_ …”

Zayn gazes at him, and a sudden wave of fondness comes over him, threatening to choke him. He realizes how lucky he is to get to see Harry this way, how much Harry trusts him to _let_ him see him this way.

“Okay, baby,” he says, moving up to kiss Harry’s neck and pumping a hand over his cock. “You can come.”

Harry yells, his whole body shaking with the force of his orgasm. Zayn works him through it, one hand on his cock and one hand in his hair as he kisses Harry’s neck. Harry pants and sobs and shivers even after he’s finished, even after Zayn wipes him off and pulls him into his arms, stroking his hair and his back and kissing his face gently, so gently.

“Harry? Harry, baby, are you still there?”

Harry takes a shaky breath. “Y-yeah.”

He curls into Zayn, burying his face in Zayn’s shoulder, and Zayn holds him tight, murmuring praise and comfort to him until he comes back down, until his breath slows down to a normal rate and he relaxes in Zayn’s arms. He smiles then, and giggles a little bit

“You okay?” Zayn asks him finally. Harry nods

“Yeah. God, Zayn, that was so hot.”

Zayn laughs. “You like that?”

Harry nods eagerly. “Definitely.”

Harry brings his hand up and traces the outlines of Zayn’s tattoos, the skull on his left shoulder, then the wings across his chest, and the skull on his other shoulder. Zayn kisses him and murmurs “I love you” into his lips.

Harry pulls back. He looks at Zayn, his eyes open with wonder and joy.

“I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

The other lads start to notice. At least, they definitely notice the change in Harry—he doesn’t frown anymore, and he’s so much looser and more relaxed, no matter what it is they’re doing. Even if they’re sitting cramped together in the tour bus for hours on end, he’s always happy, always bubbly.

“What’d you do to him, Zayn?” Niall asks, one time when Harry’s not there. “You finally learn how to suck cock?”

Zayn smacks him. “I’m perfectly good at sucking cock, Niall Horan,” he sniffs. Niall only laughs.

“Seriously, though, Zayn,” Liam says, “Whatever you two are doing, keep it up.”

Louis nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy.”

And something about that makes Zayn feel all glowy inside: _he’s_ managed to make Harry happy, where nobody else has been able to. He’s the one who whips Harry with his belt until he’s bleeding and moaning; he’s the one who drops two hundred quid on a patent leather, plush-lined collar and matching restraints for Harry to wear when they play; he’s the one who knows Harry’s safeword even though Harry’s never used it. It’s been two months since that first night when Harry told Zayn what he liked, and they’ve explored more than Zayn ever thought possible. Harry’s shown him all the sites he likes to look at; not just porn, but all sorts of blogs and forums where people talk about the things Harry’s into.

They’ve talked extensively about what they’d both be into and what they wouldn’t, and even started negotiating some levels of power exchange. Sometimes Zayn picks out Harry’s clothes in the morning, sometimes he orders food for him when they go out, or order in. He lets Harry know, with little nudges and head nods, where he wants him to sit when they’re in interviews, or where he wants him to stand on stage; he guides him along with a subtle hand on his waist or back whenever they’re walking somewhere. Harry’s also not allowed to come, ever, unless Zayn says he can. And Harry’s the happiest any of his bandmates have ever seen him.

Everything is amazing: it’s 2013, it’s summer, they’re on a world tour, and Zayn’s in love. On their flight to Mexico, while everyone else is asleep, they just lie next to each other, wrapped up in an enormous blanket, while they flip through the in-flight movies.

“I’ve had, um, some other stuff in mind,” Harry says softly. “Other things we could try.”

“Yeah?” Zayn says, absentmindedly running his hand up and down Harry’s calf, which is tucked up beside him. “Me too.”

“Like what?” Harry asks, leaning into him. He points to one movie that flicks past. “That one?”

“Sure,” Zayn says, selecting it and then leaning back, taking Harry with him. They split a pair of earbuds, Harry with the left one, Zayn with the right. Zayn kisses Harry’s neck.

“You first,” he whispers. “What else do you have in mind?”

Harry bites his lip. “How, um, how jealous do you get?”

Zayn frowns. “Why?”

The movie starts up, and only then does Zayn realize that the earbuds split the sound, so he’s only getting half the narration over the opening credits.

“Well, like, how jealous do you think you’d get if I, um, wanted us to, maybe, have sex with the other lads?”

He says the last part all in a rush, then looks at Zayn, waiting. Zayn takes a deep breath, his hand stilling on Harry’s leg.

“You mean like… you want us all to fuck you? Like a gangbang type of thing?” Harry nods, his eyes wide.

“I mean, if you’re not into it we totally don’t have to. It’s fine.”

But once again Zayn can’t pretend he’s not interested, not with the way his cock is stiffening inside his sweatpants or the way his heart rate speeds up.

“No, I, um, I think I’d be into that,” he says. He moves his hand again, starts running his fingers up and down Harry’s thigh. “How do you think you’d want to do it?”

Harry’s breath hitches and he squirms on Zayn’s lap. “However—um, however you wanted,” he says. Zayn leans in, bringing his hands up under Harry’s shirt to rub at his nipples. Harry stifles a moan—the other boys are _right there_ , after all—and pulls Zayn’s face towards him, kissing him desperately.

“However I want?” Zayn whispers into Harry’s mouth. “What if I tied you to the bedpost and let all the lads fuck you, one by one?”

Harry groans and grinds his arse down onto Zayn’s lap. Zayn pulls their earbuds out and turns them both over. It’s cramped in the airplane seat, but they’ve got the armrest up and he manages to get Harry half lying down and straddle him, grinding down as he bites at his throat.

“What if I blindfolded you backstage sometime, and just let anybody come in and fuck you who wanted to, hmm?” Harry’s thrusting back up into Zayn, and they go faster and faster, frantically building even as they try desperately to stay quiet. “You wouldn’t know whose hands were on you, whose cock was inside you; there could be one at a time or a whole bunch jerking off on your body, and you’d never have any idea who it was.”

Harry whimpers at the back of his throat, his breath speeding up. Zayn nips at his ear.

“Or what if the lads woke up right now? If you make too much noise they might hear and they’d come to see what’s happening.” Harry bites his lip and grips at Zayn’s shoulders, panting as quietly as he can. “What if I let them pull you out and tear your clothes off and just fuck you, one by one? Hmm? Would you like that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry pants. “Oh god, Zayn, yeah, fuck, Zayn I’m gonna come, Zayn please…”

“Not yet, love,” Zayn says, because he’s close too. He grabs Harry’s wrists and pins them down, grinding down on him desperately. “Beg more.”

And Harry does, breathless and open, “Please Zayn please can I come please please please oh god please, please Zayn, please I can’t, I can’t, I have to, I have to, please please can I please, god, oh god!”

And Zayn’s barely holding on as it is, but the brokenness in Harry’s voice, how wrecked he sounds after only a few minutes, sends him over the edge, and he just has time to hiss _Okay_ before _he’s_ coming in his pants, biting down on Harry’s shoulder to stifle his shout.

By the time he comes back to himself, Harry’s come too, and he’s shuddering underneath Zayn, smiling lazily. Zayn chuckles under his breath and leans down to kiss Harry’s cheek.

“Yeah, I think I’d be into that,” he says, somewhat unnecessarily. Harry grins.

“Good.”

Zayn hauls himself up and fishes out clean pants for them both, making Harry change his even though he claims he’s “too well-fucked to even move, Zayn, c’mon.” Then, after all that, they’re back where they started, cuddling under the blanket and trying unsuccessfully to watch their movie.

“So I’ll try and talk to the lads about it, yeah?” Zayn offers. Harry is visibly relieved. He’s not ashamed of his preferences, Zayn knows, but that doesn’t mean he’s not always a little nervous bringing them up to people. “I won’t tell them everything about us, just enough so they, y’know, kind of get it?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

Zayn kisses his hair and goes back to the movie. It’s nearly impossible to follow though, because now they’re almost halfway through and, with the earbud split, he’s only getting half the dialogue. So he just pulls out the earbud and hands it to Harry (he’s clearly more interested in the movie than Zayn is, anyway) and just rests his head against Harry’s, listening to the sound of his breathing until he nods off.

 

* * *

 

 

The other lads are surprisingly receptive. He tells them one by one, in between shows and on tour bus rides, and it turns out that they’ve each pretty much figured things out to some degree or another. None of them knows _exactly_ the extent of their dynamic, but they do all at least understand that Harry likes it rough, likes being told what to do. And they all agree to try it.

They also agree not to half-arse it. They’re teenage millionaires, after all; they can afford to spend inordinate amounts of money just to have sex with each other. They’re in Miami now, so they hire a yacht for the day and take it around the coast. Zayn picks out Harry’s clothes for him in the morning, and slips some lube into one of their bags. Once they’re out on the water, Zayn and Louis roll a couple joints and finally get Liam to try smoking one (he doesn’t really get too high, but it’s only his first time). Zayn forbids Harry from even taking a hit, but Harry doesn’t complain too much because he knows what’s coming later.

As night falls, they convince security to let them stay on the boat and they head belowdecks to explore. Zayn’s feeling positively giddy, and he pulls Harry into his lap as they’re all settling in one of the bedrooms. He busies himself with sliding his hand up Harry’s shirt, brushing over his abs and running his thumb underneath the waistband of his pants. Harry giggles and kisses Zayn’s cheek.

It’s surprisingly easy, now that they’re all here, for Zayn to just grip Harry’s chin and kiss him, sliding his tongue between Harry’s lips even as the other three watch. Maybe it’s the leftover high, maybe it’s the general adrenaline of being on tour, maybe it’s the thrill of knowing what’s about to happen, but Zayn doesn’t feel even a little bit self-conscious as he pulls Harry’s hips until he’s straddling Zayn’s lap, Zayn’s fingers dancing over his sun-warmed skin.

Zayn’s only a little surprised when he hears kissing sounds from the other bunk bed; he pulls away and looks over Harry’s shoulder to see Liam and Louis snogging on the lower bunk. Liam catches Zayn watching them and smiles sheepishly; Louis just grins and shrugs.

“Can’t let you to have all the fun,” he says, and grabs at Liam again.

Meanwhile, Niall’s managed to find their last bit of weed, and has set about rolling a joint with it, because apparently smoking this morning wasn’t enough.

“You know there’ll only be enough there for one, right?” Zayn asks. Niall shrugs.

“We can share. Isn’t this whole thing about sharing?”

He glances pointedly at Harry, sat on Zayn’s lap and nosing at his neck, and smirks before he lights the joint up and puts it to his lips, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes. He holds it and then breathes out slow, a smile curling his lips.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Liam’s pulled away from Louis and is eyeing the joint apprehensively. “I dunno if I’m really up for another coughing fit,” he says. Niall laughs, the high already hitting him, and says,

“It’s easier if you shotgun it. Here.”

He takes another hit, but this time just holds the smoke in his mouth and leans towards the tangle of limbs that is Liam and Louis. Liam frowns a bit, but opens his mouth and lets Niall lock their lips together. Zayn’s breath hitches, watching them, and he rubs his thumbs over the V of Harry’s hipbones. Liam pulls away after a moment and exhales the smoke, this time not coughing at all.

“Shit,” he says. “I think I feel it this time.”

Niall and Zayn both laugh it him as Louis extricates himself from Liam in order to take the joint from Niall.

“Can I try?” Harry asks.

“Shit, Haz, have you never smoked either?” Niall asks. Harry shrugs and shakes his head. He glances at Zayn, who nods, nudging Harry up off his lap and onto the bed.

“Sit up, babe, and close your eyes.”

Harry obeys, hands flat on the mattress beside his legs, eyes closed as Zayn reaches over and takes the joint from Louis.

“Open your mouth,” Zayn says, and Harry does, waiting as Zayn inhales, the hot smoke curling down his throat. He holds it in his mouth and puts his hand on Harry’s cheek. He presses his lips to Harry’s and slowly exhales, feeling Harry eagerly suck the smoke down, flicking his tongue out to meet Zayn’s. When Zayn pulls away, Harry opens his eyes, blinking up at them all before carefully exhaling, only coughing a little bit.

“Okay?” Zayn asks. Harry nods.

“Yeah.”

Zayn smiles and kisses him for real before taking his own hit. He passes the joint back to Louis and sits down next to Harry on the bed, taking his face in both hands and kissing him again, long and slow, licking into Harry’s mouth as though he expects to be able to taste the smoke, to suck it back up from where it’s coiling in Harry’s lungs, making him relax under Zayn’s touch, tilting his face up willingly. He pulls away and Harry blinks up at him slowly, panting a little as the high starts to hit him.

“Shiiiiiiit,” he says, managing to draw out the single-syllable word to the length of a normal person’s sentence.

“You okay?” Zayn asks again, stroking Harry’s cheek with his thumb. Harry nods slowly.

“Can I have another?” he asks, looking straight at Zayn. Zayn’s already vaguely half-hard anyway, but Harry’s face, so open and obedient, sends a spike of heat straight to his cock, making him groan involuntarily. He’s hyper-aware of how much Harry trusts him, and he feels a warm bubble of pride in his chest, loving the feeling of being needed, of being important to Harry; and the power is intoxicating, knowing that he’s 100% in charge. Harry will do whatever he says, and although the other lads aren’t necessarily going to take orders from him, they won’t do anything to Harry that he tells them not to.

“One more, yeah,” he says. He reaches behind him to take the joint back from Louis, but instead Louis holds onto it and goes to sit next to Harry.

“May I?” he asks. Zayn hesitates only a moment before nodding—now is not the time to start getting jealous.

Louis sucks in a little bit more smoke than Zayn did, then takes Harry by the chin and presses his mouth to Harry’s, tilting his head slightly. Zayn can see the vein in his neck pop a little as he exhales, can see the way Harry scratches softly at the bedsheets as he feels the heat slip down his throat, and he’s so ridiculously turned on now that there’s no point trying to hide it. Louis pulls off to let Harry exhale and hands the joint back to Niall and Liam, who are enjoying the show as much as Zayn is, if the bulges in their shorts are any indication.

Louis takes Harry’s face in both hands and kisses him properly, hungrily, and Harry responds with a little whimper of pleasure, starting to bring his hands up to Louis’ face. Zayn sits down behind him and grabs his hands, holding his wrists gently but firmly behind his back instead. Harry groans and leans his head back on Zayn’s shoulder, and Louis follows, keeping one hand cupping Harry’s cheek while the other explores, wandering up his shirt.

Zayn kisses at Harry’s neck, holding his wrists with one hand while his other hand goes to join Louis’, showing him wordlessly how Harry likes it, where he wants to be touched, where he wants to be pinched, where to dig fingernails into his skin to leave red scratch marks for the next morning. Harry keens and pushes back into their touch, his hips thrusting up obscenely into the empty air above him. Zayn chuckles and nips at his ear before whispering,

“Niall and Liam are watching, baby, look.”

Harry cracks one eye open, and Zayn follows his gaze, simultaneously trailing his hand further down, towards the waistband of Harry’s shorts. Sure enough, Liam and Niall are both looking at them hungrily; Liam’s holding the joint in one hand while he palms himself through his shorts, while Niall’s already pulled his cock out and is stroking himself lazily. Niall grins.

“Got room for a couple more?”

Zayn smiles back at him, and Louis pulls away to chuckle a bit, too.

“You want to fuck his face, Nialler?” Zayn asks. For emphasis he reaches over and tugs gently on Harry’s chin, and Harry obediently opens his mouth, proudly showing Niall what Zayn means.

“Shit, yeah,” Niall groans, sitting up. “You sure?”

It’s unclear whether the question is directed at Harry or at Zayn, but Zayn answers for both of them, anyway:

“Of course. Here, lemme show you how he likes it.”

He grabs Harry by his arms and pulls him up. Harry kneels without being told, looking up at Zayn with those big green eyes, his mouth still held open.

“Sit back on your heels, love—yeah, like that—now put your hands behind your back, good boy, and close your eyes.”

Harry obeys everything, and he’s so pliant, so yielding, it’s all Zayn can do to just pull his shorts down and grab the back of Harry’s head before shoving down his throat. Harry gags, but Zayn just stays still, holding him in place until he works through it, Harry blinking rapidly before he closes his eyes again. Zayn keeps a fist tangled in Harry’s hair, keeping his head still as he thrusts in and out of his mouth, shallow enough that Harry doesn’t gag again, but harsh enough to show the others that they don’t need to be gentle, that they _shouldn’t_ be gentle.

And _fuck_ if it doesn’t feel amazing, the wet heat of Harry’s mouth around him, his body completely slack beneath Zayn’s fist, and Zayn almost wants to just keep going like this, fuck Harry’s face until he comes down his throat, but he manages to remind himself that he wants to go last, he wants to see all the others use Harry before he finally finishes. So he gives one last, deep thrust, and holds Harry there for another couple seconds, his nose pressed into Zayn’s pubic hair, gagging around Zayn’s cock,  before he pulls out with a grunt.

“Is that how you like it, hmm?” he asks, bending down and grazing his thumb over Harry’s lower lip. Harry’s panting already, but he stays still, sat back on his heels with his hands clasped behind him, and he nods slowly, trying to get an answer out from behind the haze of sex and pot.

“Yeah,” he drawls, slowly but surely, and Zayn kisses the corner of his mouth.

“Good boy.”

He gets up, pulling his shorts back up as though that will do anything to conceal his raging erection, and looks at Niall.

“Wanna go, then?”

Niall lets out a sound that’s probably intended to be a curse but is really just a glorified moan. He stands up and drops his shorts the rest of the way off, stepping out of them as he walks the two steps over to Zayn and Harry. Harry tilts his face up, mouth open, Zayn’s hand on the top of his head to anchor him. His eyes are still closed, because Zayn hasn’t told him to open them, so he can’t see Niall’s approach, and Zayn sees him flinch just a bit in surprise when Niall grabs his curls and shoves his dick into Harry’s mouth. Harry groans and opens his mouth wider, letting Niall in.

Niall bites his lip and moans out loud. He starts thrusting slowly, looking up at Zayn.

“Fuck, he’s amazing,” he says. Zayn smiles.

“Isn’t he?”

He can see Harry flushing, from pride and from exertion and from the humiliation of being talked about as though he’s not even there, as though he’s not a person but just a mouth to be fucked. Harry’s fingertips clutch at the carpet and he whines happily at the back of his throat.

Niall’s thrusting, but he’s not going very fast or very deep, clearly trying to hold back. Niall’s a nice boy, after all, and he probably doesn’t want to hurt Harry.

“You can go harder,” Zayn says. “He’s all right. He likes it.”

He nods down towards where Harry’s obviously hard in his shorts and Niall follows his gaze. He curses and moans and grabs Harry’s curls with both hands, pushing farther in until he’s balls-deep and Harry’s gagging around him. He starts thrusting in earnest, and Harry takes it willingly, holding his mouth as wide as he can, his hands still clasped behind his back. Zayn strokes the top of his head, in contrast to Niall’s hands clutching at his curls and probably pulling some hair out in his eagerness.

“Ah, fuck, he’s so hot,” Niall pants. “Jesus Christ…”

Louis has moved across to sit by Liam, and they’ve both got their shorts pulled down around their thighs, stroking themselves to Niall fucking Harry’s face. Louis murmurs something to Liam and Liam hands him the joint. Louis sucks in some more smoke and leans in, and Liam meets him halfway, opening his lips to breathe in the smoke that Zayn can see curling from Louis’ mouth just before they come together. Zayn reaches out a hand and Louis hands him the joint, and he takes another hit, watching Harry’s face as he gags and works through it again, his eyes watering. He listens to the squelching sounds Niall’s cock makes as he fucks in and out of Harry’s mouth and has to resist reaching down to palm his own erection, which hasn’t managed to lessen at all. He considers offering Niall a hit, but doesn’t think he’d have the presence of mind right now, as his breath becomes shallow and his thrusts erratic, teetering on the edge of orgasm.

“Wait,” Zayn says, and Niall swears loudly. “Wait, can you come on his face?”

Niall looks up at him and nods, pulling out and taking his cock in his hand. He wanks himself quickly, nearly finished anyway, and Harry stays still, only panting a little bit now that he’s not choking on Niall anymore.

“Keep your mouth open, babe,” Zayn commands him, and apparently that’s what does it for Niall—he curses under his breath and comes, splattering all over Harry’s upturned face. Harry hardly flinches, even as some of it hits one of his eyes, still closed, and more goes into his mouth. Niall pants heavily and collapses back, falling onto Louis and Liam, who laugh and shove him to the side so he can lie back on the bed.

“ _Shit_ ,” Niall gasps out, laughing. Zayn smiles, feeling an odd sort of pride—Harry’s _his_ , after all. He leans down and kisses Harry’s temple.

“Good job, baby,” he murmurs. He uses his thumb to gently wipe the cum away from Harry’s eye, and then sticks his thumb in Harry’s open mouth.

“Swallow,” he says, and Harry obeys, moaning a little bit. Zayn ducks down to kiss him, feeling the trembling in his breath and tasting Niall on his tongue. He’s still holding the joint, so he inhales some more smoke and slowly breathes it out into Harry’s mouth, their lips not quite touching, and Harry sucks it down eagerly.

Zayn straightens up, stroking Harry’s curls with one hand as he takes another hit. On the exhale, he says, breathing smoke towards the other lads:

“Who’s next, then?”

“ _God_ ,” Liam hisses, and Zayn sees how frantically he’s already jerking himself. Zayn smiles and motions for him to come over. Liam sheds his shirt as he gets up, so now he’s completely naked. He doesn’t hesitate; Zayn thinks that maybe if he were less worked up, he’d start out slow like Niall did, but now he just grabs Harry by the back of his head and thrusts all the way down his throat. Harry gags violently but somehow works through it, and by that time Liam’s started to move, quick, sharp thrusts in and out of Harry’s mouth.

“Shit, Niall’s right, he’s fucking _amazing_ ,” Liam says, tightening his grip on Harry’s hair. Zayn smirks and takes one more hit, blowing the smoke away from Liam before handing the joint around him to Louis.

“Here, Niall looks like he could use a pick-me-up.”

Niall laughs and sits up on his arms to watch Liam and Harry, and he and Louis pass the joint back and forth, sometimes shotgunning off of each other and sometimes just snogging, until Liam groans and pulls out just in time to come over Harry’s cheek and his lips.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

Liam works himself through and then backs away, and almost immediately Louis’ there, joint in hand and a glint in his eye. He catches Zayn’s eye and smirks, and Zayn smirks back, leaning in to kiss him as he pushes into Harry’s waiting mouth.

Louis is more deliberate than Niall or Liam, though no less rough. He switches between short, harsh thrusts and long, deep ones, holding Harry’s head down on his cock until he chokes, then pulling back, letting him suck in a breath before thrusting in again.

Zayn bites Louis’ lip, pulling it back and releasing it, licking back his panting mouth. Louis breathes in smoke and passes it to Zayn, and when Zayn exhales it’s into another kiss. Harry’s begun whimpering, his cock painfully hard inside his shorts, and Louis starts thrusting faster, groaning against Zayn, and Zayn wants so badly to wank himself, he’s _so desperate_ , but it’s more important to keep his hand on Harry, keep him anchored even as Louis pulls out and jerks off onto Harry’s face, already covered in Liam and Niall’s cum. Louis adds his, across Harry’s cheek, colored with a dark pink blush, and then a little bit in his hair, his curls damp with sweat. Harry pants a lot and coughs a little as Louis lets him go and moves away, but never does he open his eyes, never does he close his mouth or move his hands from behind him or attempt to sit up at all, just waits for Zayn to tell him what to do next.

Zayn kneels down beside him, stroking the side of his face and kissing his open mouth, gently coaxing him until Harry kisses back, weakly at first, then stronger.

“You’re so good, Harry, so good,” Zayn murmurs, and Harry moans happily. Zayn licks a stripe up his cheek, catching the other boys’ cum on his tongue, and then transfers it to Harry’s mouth, waiting until he swallows it to go lick up some more. He keeps going until Harry’s face is cleaned, then kisses him gently, forgetting momentarily that the other lads are even there, because no matter what Harry might let them do, he’s still _Zayn’s_ , and the feeling of that sort of power, that sort of devotion, makes Zayn almost dizzy with love.

“You’re such a good boy, baby,” he says, kissing Harry on the forehead. “You can open your eyes, Harry, yeah, that’s good.”

Harry looks up at him, panting softly. Zayn kisses him again, and reaches down to where his cock is straining in his shorts, painfully hard and uncared for. Harry whines and pushes up against his hand, and Zayn laughs.

“Yeah, okay love, you’ve been so good.”

He pulls Harry’s cock out and starts stroking it. Harry’s breath hitches and he moans shamelessly, thrusting up into Zayn’s hand. He’s been so hard for so long that’s it’s only a few strokes before he’s panting, and bringing himself back up enough to look at Zayn pleadingly.

“Zayn… Zayn please can I… please can I… please…”

Zayn doesn’t bother trying to make him wait, just nods.

“Yes, baby, yes, you can come.”

And he does, crying with the force of it, and Zayn pulls Harry’s head into him, stroking him reassuringly and cooing in his ear even as Harry stripes Zayn’s hand and Harry’s shirt.

“Fuck, Zayn, Zayn, Zayn, Zayn…”

He’s sobbing by the time he finishes, and Zayn just holds him for a moment or two, letting him slow his breathing down until he’s not panting frantically, until he exhales, warm on Zayn’s skin, aren’t panicked and verging on hysteria. Then he wipes his hand off on Harry’s shirt, Harry moaning quietly and nuzzling into Zayn’s shoulder.

“You can move, Haz, it’s okay,” Zayn says, and Harry sighs in relief, unclasping his hands and instead clutching at Zayn’s shirt, burying his face in the fabric. Zayn holds him and slowly stands them both up. He tugs at Harry’s shirt and Harry obediently raises his arms so Zayn can lift it over his head. Zayn kisses him again before tugging his shorts off, and Harry steps out of them as they make their way over to the bed. Zayn strips his own clothes off, his cock rigid against his stomach, completely untouched since he first handed Harry over to Niall. He sits down on the bed, legs open, and pushes Harry onto his knees in front of him.

“Go on, babe,” he says, and Harry does, eagerly wrapping his lips around the head and sinking down, getting his hand around what he can’t fit into his mouth right away. Zayn groans out loud, closing his eyes and leaning back because it feels _so good_ , and he can’t really bring himself to think about much else but the warmth of Harry’s mouth around him. Then he hears a loud groan from the other bed and sees Niall, naked now, with his cock completely hard, and Liam beside him, halfway there; both of them are watching Harry hungrily, and Zayn can’t help but smirk a little bit.

“Niall, if you go—oh, shit, Harry, yeah—go in my bag—ah, _fuck_ —there’s, there’s some lube and—nnh, yeah, _fuck_ , Harry—”

Niall obliges, pawing around in Zayn’s bag until he finds the bottle, then settling himself behind Harry. Harry pushes up onto his knees, his arse in the air, and spreads his legs open. Niall glances hesitantly at Zayn.

“Should I…?”

“Yeah, just— _fuuuuuck_ —just get it all over your fingers and—god, Harry, yeah—start with one and—”

“’S just like anal with a girl, yeah?” Niall says, opening the bottle and coating his fingers with lube. Zayn raises an eyebrow at him, impressed, and Niall shrugs, grinning. He brings his hand down to Harry’s arse, and Zayn can’t really see what’s going on, but apparently he knows what he’s doing, because Harry groans desperately, grinding back against Niall, who laughs out loud, very pleased with himself.

Harry pauses on Zayn’s cock, distracted by Niall’s ministrations, so Zayn grabs his curls and gives them a little yank.

“Focus, love,” he says. Harry blinks up at him apologetically and resumes, bobbing up and down on Zayn’s dick, hollowing his cheeks obscenely, and it doesn’t take long before Zayn’s coming, holding Harry’s head in place as he comes down his throat. Harry swallows it all before pulling off and burying his head in the crook of Zayn’s legs, whining. Zayn leans back on the bed and drifts for a little bit, not really registering what goes on around him, even as Harry clutches at his thighs and pants into his skin.

Then Harry gives a jolt beneath him and lets out a particularly desperate cry. Zayn hauls himself up and looks down to where Niall’s got three fingers inside of Harry, which he’s stopped moving, looking up at Zayn incredulously.

“I think I just hit something,” he says. “Is that… is that supposed to happen?”

Zayn laughs breathlessly. “I dunno, why don’t you try again and see if he likes it?”

Niall looks down to his hand. He pushes his fingers in again and moves them around, his nose wrinkling in concentration.

“Crook them,” Zayn says, demonstrating with his hand. Niall copies him. It takes a couple tries, but then he finds that spot again and Harry moans his appreciation. Niall grins up at  
Zayn, pleased. Zayn laughs and leans down to kiss him, then Harry.

“Don’t work him up too much; he’s still got to take all four of us.”

Harry whines and pulls Zayn back down to kiss him. Niall works one more finger into him, hitting his prostate a couple more times to make him tremble and moan in Zayn’s arms, then pulls his fingers out and lubes up his cock.

“Can I fuck him?” he asks, the question directed at Zayn. Zayn nods. He lies back onto his side on the bed and pulls Harry down next to him so he can hold Harry’s wrists to the mattress above his head. Niall stands up and lines his cock up, pressing it against Harry’s hole, and looks up at Zayn for the final okay. Zayn nods, although Harry opening his legs and grinding back, whining desperately, pretty much says everything.

Niall holds onto Harry’s hip with one hand and his cock with the other, slowly pushing in. Harry whines into the sheets. Zayn strokes his hair with his free hand, watching Niall’s face as he pushes in further, his eyes lighting up and then closing as he moans, bottoming out.

“ _Shit_ he’s amazing,” he says, and Zayn nods, smiling. Niall rests one hand arm on the top bunk and leans his head on it as he thrusts in and out, Harry moaning and writhing beneath him. Zayn holds more firmly to his wrists, not allowing him to budge, so all Harry can do is grind back against Niall as he fucks him.

“Hear that, babe?” Zayn murmurs, so only Harry can hear him. “Niall thinks you’re amazing, loves the way you open up for him, loves what a slut you are for it.”

Harry whines and turns his head, seeking Zayn out. Zayn meets him halfway, kissing his swollen lips, swallowing his moans and breathy little sighs as Niall goes faster and faster, pounding Harry’s willing arse. Zayn can tell whenever Niall catches Harry’s prostate because Niall curses under his breath and Harry’s whimpers change in pitch. Zayn can’t see them, but he can hear Liam and Louis snogging on the other bed, their muffled curses as Niall’s thrusts lose their rhythm and find it again, and then finally when he grabs Harry’s hips with both hands and thrusts one, two, three more times before coming inside him, Harry squeezing his eyes shut and crying out into Zayn’s mouth.

Zayn shushes him, stroking his hair until he stops trembling and until Niall pulls out and goes to collapse beside Liam and Louis. Zayn looks up to see them both naked now, the joint put out in an ashtray, and Liam gets up to come take his turn.

“Can I turn him over?” he asks, half asking permission and half wondering if it’ll even work that way. Zayn nods and releases Harry, helping Liam to turn him over onto his back. Zayn scoots back and sits cross-legged behind him, so Harry’s head is rested on his shins, and holds Harry’s wrists again, partially to control him and partially as an anchor as Liam spreads his legs, hitching them over his arms. He must’ve grabbed the lube after Niall dropped it because his cock’s already prepped, and he just pushes in, groaning as he does.

“Fuck, god, he feels so good, oh my _god_ ,” he pants. Harry whines and opens his legs, wrapping them around Liam’s waist as Liam grabs onto him and fucks him harder. He has better luck than Niall, finding Harry’s prostate fairly quickly, making Harry gasp and buck against him, trying desperately to grind further down onto him. Liam’s eyes go wide and he doubles the intensity of his thrusts, trying to find the bundle of nerves again, and looking very pleased when he does.

Zayn lays Harry’s hands on his knees, right beside Harry’s head, and tells him to keep them there. Harry obeys, so Zayn is free to reach down to his nipples, rolling them between his fingers. Harry moans, his breath speeding up, and arches into Zayn’s touch. He flicks at one with his thumbnail, then the other, pinches them tight and then soothes them with the pads of his thumbs. Harry whines loudly.

“Zayn… Zayn can I… Zayn please can I come, please, please?”

He’s completely hard again, his dick twitching with every one of Liam’s thrusts, with every time Zayn touches his nipples. Zayn pulls one hand away to stroke the side of his face.

“Not yet, babe, not yet,” he says, and Harry starts to cry, from exertion and desperation and overstimulation. Zayn traces him with his thumbs: his open, panting lips, bitten red; his bright pink cheeks; his curls, stuck to the sides of his face with sweat and a little bit of cum. Zayn rests his thumbs just below Harry’s eyes, feeling his eyelashes, wet with tears, flutter against them as Liam comes with a yell, holding Harry’s waist hard enough to bruise.

Zayn wipes Harry’s tears away, cooing at him softly.

“You’re being so good, Harry, so good,” he murmurs. “Shh, sweetie, shh.”

Harry hiccups and nuzzles instinctively into Zayn’s hand. Zayn gently moves Harry’s hands so they’re by his sides, then shifts his body away, laying Harry’s head down on the mattress before crawling over so he can straddle him. He holds Harry’s head in both hands and kisses him until he comes back a little bit, until he stops crying and his breathing slows.

“You’re okay, Harry, it’s okay, shh…”

Harry pants softly and blinks up at him, green eyes wide.

“You still with me, babe?”

Harry nods slowly, panting through his parted lips.

“Do you think you’re up for more, Harry? You think you’re ready to let Louis fuck you?”

He grinds down, ever so slightly, rubbing his dick against Harry’s. Harry moans and nods.

“Yeah… yeah…”

Zayn kisses him one more time before sitting up, glancing around to where Louis has moved to the chair in the corner of the room.

“D’you think he can ride me?” Louis asks, lubing up his cock. Zayn glances down at Harry, nearly boneless beneath him.

“I dunno, you might have to do most of the work, mate,” he says hesitantly, but Harry’s whining and nodding, as eager as he can be through the lingering high and how deep he is in subspace.

“You want to, baby?” Zayn asks, and Harry nods again.

Zayn reaches down and puts Harry’s arms over his shoulders, lifting him up like a child. Harry wraps his legs around Zayn’s waist, holding on surprisingly well. Zayn carries him over to Louis, switching his grip so he’s holding Harry’s arse cheeks slightly apart, feeling Niall and Liam’s cum drip out. He presses kisses to Harry’s neck and shoulders, nips his collarbones just a little bit.

“You’re being so good, baby,” he murmurs, and Harry smiles against his cheek. Louis holds his cock up and puts a hand on Harry’s hip, helping Zayn lower Harry down onto him. Harry lets out a whine of pleasure as he goes, and Louis kisses his neck.

“Yeah, you like that?”

Harry nods, letting himself settle onto Louis’ lap, Louis’ hands on his hips to steady him. He looks up at Zayn, his pupils blown and his face completely open, the kind of vulnerability he saves just for him, just for when they’re alone. Zayn kisses him, tangling his hands in Harry’s curls and going with him as he starts to move up and down on Louis’ cock, Louis’ hands guiding him gently but firmly.

Zayn shifts further down, sucking at Harry’s neck, his shoulders, then biting gently at his nipples. Harry keens, his hands gripping Louis’ thighs for support. Zayn keeps going, nosing at Harry’s butterfly tattoo (god, he’s so dumb, Zayn loves him so much) until he comes to Harry’s cock, painfully hard against his stomach. Zayn looks up at Harry, smirks at him before darting his tongue out to lick at the tip. Harry nearly screams, thrusting up to meet him, his hands coming down to settle on Zayn’s head. Zayn pulls off, shaking his head, and moves Harry’s hands: one on Louis’ leg, one behind Louis’ head for support.

“Stay,” he says, and Harry does, Harry always does, just because Zayn tells him to. Just for that, Zayn sinks down on his cock, taking Harry as far as he can go, and wrapping his fist around the rest. Harry’s trying to hold still, Zayn can tell, even as Zayn slowly pulls back, moving his hand with his mouth—he’s trying to hold still, but with Louis’ hips moving beneath him it’s nearly impossible. Zayn doesn’t scold him, though, lets him move with Louis, pushing further into Zayn’s mouth; if it gets to be too much, Zayn can grab his hips and push him back down onto Louis. Harry’s panting now, whining softly, and Louis’ fucking him fast enough that his legs make a slapping sound against Harry’s with every thrust. Harry squeezes his eyes shut, and the words come out broken, so soft that Zayn can barely hear them:

“Zayn… please…”

Zayn doesn’t pull off, but he rubs Harry’s hip soothingly in wordless permission, and Harry comes with a strangled cry. Zayn and Louis hold him down together, and Zayn stays on Harry’s cock as he finishes, working him gently with his hand. Zayn doesn’t swallow it, smirking to himself as he comes up, and Harry opens his mouth for Zayn to kiss him, swallows his own cum off of Zayn’s tongue.

“Shit,” Louis pants, his voice wrecked. “Shit, is that, is he…?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, smiling. “He likes that.”

Louis swears and digs his fingers into Harry’s hips, fucking faster and faster until he comes, too, holding Harry down on his lap. By the time he’s done, Harry’s whimpering, shaking in Zayn’s arms.

“Shh, baby, shh, that’s good, that’s good, you’re so good, baby, shh.”

Harry lets Zayn lift him off of Louis and carry him away, but they don’t make it very far. Zayn’s impossibly hard and he can’t really ignore it anymore—he doesn’t even go all the way around the bed, just pushes Harry up against the near end, letting him reach up to grip at the frame. He wraps Harry’s legs around his waist, supporting him with a hand on each thigh, and pushes into him, the other three’s cum acting as lube so he meets almost no resistance.

“God, _fuck_ , Harry, you’re so wet, you’re soaking with it,” he hisses, and Harry moans. Zayn thrusts up into him, fast and hard, unforgiving, with no goal but to get himself off, and Harry lets him, just locking his legs around Zayn to hold him there, hanging onto the bed frame. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Zayn comes, then, but he can’t really be blamed, not after all that. He nearly blacks out from the force of it, and it’s all he can do to hold Harry up.

“Harry, _fuck!_ ”

Zayn does leave himself for a bit, only vaguely aware of his surroundings, but he comes back when he feels Harry quivering against him. Then he remembers that he’s not done yet, he still has to bring Harry back down, soothe him until he’s calm. He leans in and kisses him on the tip of his nose, then lays him down on the bed. He pulls Harry in, lets him curl up against him.

“That was so good, Harry,” he murmurs. “You were amazing, baby.”

Harry breathes shakily, burying his face in Zayn’s shoulder. The other lads come over and squeeze onto the bunk bed around them, an exhausted tangle of limbs.

“Is he okay?” Liam asks, rubbing Harry’s shoulder. Harry shivers.

“He’ll be all right,” Zayn says, finger-combing Harry’s curls. “Just have to take care of him until he comes back.”

He’s not sure how the other boys understand, but they do, and they all wrap Harry up, holding him tight.

When Harry’s eyes start to clear, Zayn gets up. He lifts Harry in his arms, bride-style, and they all go together to find the nearest bathroom. Liam runs a hot shower, and Zayn carries Harry in, putting him down on his feet and supporting him, rubbing his back and cooing at him as the others wash him, sudsing his naked body and gently massaging shampoo through his hair. Afterwards, they wrap him up in a big, fluffy towel, and Zayn carries him back, pressing kisses to his forehead. Harry sighs contentedly, now more exhausted than anything, and leans into Zayn’s chest, his eyes closing.

The bunks are really only made for one person each, but Zayn and Harry share, Harry wrapped up in Zayn’s arms. Zayn doesn’t pay too much attention to who takes which of the other bunks, just registers a faint feeling of satisfaction knowing that they’re all there, that they’re all together. He pulls Harry in as close as he can.

“I love you,” he whispers into his skin.

“Love you, too,” Harry murmurs, nearly asleep.

“Night, all,” Zayn calls, and there’s a returning chorus of “Good night!”s. Zayn smiles. He doesn’t think he’s ever been happier in his entire life. He snuggles down under the blankets and listens to the sound of Harry’s breathing, letting it lull him off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [tumblr](http://whyitgrins.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading!


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